Sahara wallowed in self-pity, remembering the suffocated city beneath her that her golden sand had incinerated. A barren, useless wasteland only visited by the sun and wind. She was the lost land of banishment who terrified people into lawful submission, for fear of being cast into her wilderness. The barrier between her and the ball of flames resembled a block of swiss cheese more with each passing year, turning her into a body of lava. Global warming her reality.
Her grains rippled at an approaching sound. An unusual all terrain vehicle skated over her surface on chilled conveyer-belt wheels. The first she’d seen in nearly a decade. She waited for the spontaneous bonfire to begin, but it didn’t. Seemingly aware of the sticky tar trap that was once a highway the visitors trundled on her curves, stopping on her raised belly.
“Check out the cool dunes dude,” shouted the apparently human driver, punching his passenger in the arm.
The three occupants exited, crunching her fine silt beneath them. Still they did not combust. Sahara puzzled at this for she knew she sizzled like the fires of hell. As their thick soled boots, zipped into their strange looking suits rested on her for a minute she felt the cold. Then she noticed their space like helmets, with water tanks strapped to their backs.
Vapor wisped up on the breeze as they opened the trunk – refrigerated. Ice boards were dropped on her surface and feet strapped into them. They wiggled their way down the slopes and allowed momentum to fly them further.
“Woohoo,” they screamed as they blazed a path across her.
Typical she thought. Instead of fixing the heat, they found a way around it. Humans hadn’t changed in all the years. They were still selfish.
By Debbie Gravett © 2019.03.28
#FFFC: Flash Fiction Challenge 6
Image by The Lazy Artist Gallery @ pexels.com